


Specters

by mutedtempest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This is sort of an exercise in recovery, not a happy fic but maybe some hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 15:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutedtempest/pseuds/mutedtempest
Summary: Lotor, after his return from the Rift, finds himself still haunted by his past.





	Specters

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning: this is going to deal with Lotor's abuse and his coping mechanisms. No direct mentions of anything horrible, but very heavily implied. Fellow survivors and those sensitive, please be careful. 
> 
> This was inspired by the lovely art posted by Beansquat on the Lotura discord, and Pae and Weebles' related drabbles. As such the main idea for this fic isn't mine, but it's pretty much how I coped as a kid. So I guess maybe...it could be my idea? Not sure, but definitely no infringement intended to any of my lovely fellow Lotura shippers. 
> 
> I promise it ends with hope. I can't write pure pain with no resolution, it hurts too much.

When he woke, the boy was there. He generally was, and Lotor could only gaze at the tear-stained face sadly as he woke up a bit more and glanced around the room.

The Castle. Or the new version of it, at least. The old one had died in the rift, as so many things had. Although not himself. He knew he should be grateful for that fact, but he was simply so _tired..._

"They've always told us that no one will love us. That we do not deserve to be loved. Were they correct?"

The young voice asked the question through tears, and Lotor removed the blankets and crouched next to his younger self, a tear escaping as he brushed some of the hair away from that devastated face.

"I do not know. I am sorry."

He said it in a whisper, pulling the boy's body to him as it shook with sobs. He wanted to comfort, but there seemed no way to do so when he had no more answers at the current time than he had when he'd asked the question. 

Before too terribly long, the boy vanished, as he always did, and Lotor moved to sit at the edge of the bed. He could not seem to put a stop to the memories of harsh words and harsher hands breaking through the carefully constructed armor he'd crafted around his heart. It did no good to dwell upon such things, and yet it seemed his father had been right all along. He was weak; beholden to emotion rather than sense. A shame to his Empire and the memory of the mother he'd so adored.

The memories had been far more potent since Allura had come for him. He was unsure if it was the quintessence or simply time and her presence that brought it all back, but for the movement since he'd woken from the healing pod his nightmares had been exceptionally vivid and the boy much more tangible than he usually was - 

There was a soft knock upon the door to the chamber he'd been given. He bit out his permission to enter, doing his best to control the shaking of his voice. Not that it would matter, overmuch. He was broken and they'd all seen it; they all knew. 

"No," Allura said, very softly, as she sat carefully next to him, not getting too close. He realized he'd been speaking aloud and his shame was overwhelming, heavy water upon his soul. 

After a time, she glanced at him, the concern in her eyes almost too much for him to bear. "Did you see him again?"

"There has never been a quintant in which I have not," he replied, laughing to cover the misery in sharing this shame with her; of having her witness his weakness. That he had told her of his past self haunting him was a thing he could never take back, and it made his blood, the accursed half-breed sludge in his veins, feel like lead.

Allura said nothing for a long moment, but her hand rested rather close to his. He did commend her for her sensitivity in these matters; to be touched would either feel like death or like warmth and he could never anticipate which. 

"You needn't keep watch over me. I am well."

She shook her head, but it was sad rather than angry. "That is the first time you have lied to me, Lotor. Surely you understand that trauma stays stays with you until it is processed."

"Processed? And how do you suggest I process ten thousand years of never being enough, Princess?"

It was far more bitter than he'd intended it to be, and she winced, more at the title than the words. She'd apologized profusely for all of it, and while they both knew it would take a great deal of time, they'd agreed to work toward it together. 

"You were always enough. The things you've experienced...I do not know how to heal that sort of pain. But I am here and I will not leave you again."

"Perhaps you should," he replied, but his tone was no longer bitter. She'd seen many of his memories, his traumas, in her efforts to heal him, and his visions of his childhood self had been more than apparent. 

"You believe that because they conditioned you to do so," she said, very carefully resting the edge of her hand against his. He did not move away, and something in him desperately craved the warmth of her hand, but he was too embarrassed to ask for such a thing. 

"Perhaps. And yet it is so effective it is the equivalent of truth."

Allura sighed. "You are worthy of love, Lotor. I beg your forgiveness for listening, but I was walking past and heard you speaking...you are deserving of all the good things in the universe. I realize you don't believe me, but I promise you it's true."

"Even if I am...worthless?" It was a whisper, and he wasn't aware he'd said it until he felt her arm come to rest very softly across his back. Not having the strength to resist, he leaned into the embrace, his tears flowing copiously before he was able to stop them.

"You are a beautiful being, Lotor. You have a genuine heart and you have so much love within you. That they told you love was weakness was a lie. It made you strong enough to withstand it, because you knew that it was the driving force of the universe even when they said that force was power. You succeeded, Lotor. You bested them and many love you. More every varga." Her words were quiet against his ear as he cried, claws gripping her hand enough to hurt, but she didn't mind. Even in this state he was careful not to break her skin, and it made her next words nearly a whisper as she was so overcome with feeling upon speaking them.

"But none, I think, so much as I do. I know you cannot truly believe it yet, but I will never lie about such a thing. You are not weak for feeling pain, my love, and I am here." She stroked her fingers through his hair as she said it, and Lotor opened his eyes after a time to see the boy across the room once more.

This time, he was not crying. Instead, he looked happy and content.


End file.
